I will get out
by Shuggie
Summary: Sirius thinks while in Azkaban. I wrote this originally for an English assignment . First thing I've ever written in 1st person. please read, i want to see if i'm anygood at that


Okkiedokkies, Potterheadsssss…this is a little thingy that came into my mind when my English teacher was telling me that she would give extra credit if we wrote a story or something and turned it in. Well, because my mind revolves around Sirius, I thought to myself, 'Mina-chan will write a story about her dear Sirius in Azkaban, and she will then post it on ff.net for people to read (and hopefully like).' So this is what she has done. I didn't use any names bc my teacher HATES hp (which I considered to be blasphemy, but hey that's just me). So there you have it. 

Please read and review and tell me if you think it's ok to turn in for an assignment.

If you find ANY grammar/spelling errors PLEASE review and tell me exactly where they are!!!

Dark…it's very dark. The blackness that surrounds me is almost tangible. I feel it closing in on me like a lion about to go in for the kill or a tidal wave about to plummet onto a helpless beach. 

It is also very cold here. I can feel the icy grip of someone on my heart. They are trying to squeeze the life from me; they want me dead…

But why? I didn't do anything to them…to anybody. They have the story all wrong. They think I killed them, but it wasn't me. I would never.

Sure, I've killed before. But we were in the middle of a war! What was I supposed to do? Waltz up to the enemy and ask to settle our differences over tea and cakes? Ha! They would have blown my head clean from my shoulders. I probably would have never known what hit me. 

But wouldn't that have been an interesting way for me to go. _Me!_ I used to be called the best of the best, pride of my generation. I was the top of my class in every subject. I was on top of the world, soaring high, living large. I had everything. My family was finally gone. We shared a mutual hate. I called them slimy, evil, Hell-bound. They called me a blood traitor, scum, shame of the family. But, much better than them, I had friends and a godson that I loved like nothing else. I still do, even if they hate me now…

My best friends are dead…murdered. Everyone else-my mentors, teachers, friends, the few family members I ever could say I loved-they all hate me. They think I did it. They think I killed them. But how could I? They were my everything! My life revolved around them, as all my thoughts do now here in this cold, dark prison. 

A small, almost silent, sound reaches my ears. It sounds like water dropping. It's as faint as the first raindrop of a spring shower. I bring a hand up to my face. It's wet. 

I've been crying? 

Am I so numb now that I cannot feel tears streaming down my face in rivers? How strange! Especially since I used to loath crying. Well, not other people crying, just me. It made me feel weak. It made me feel like a child…like I was unworthy. 

But he-my best friend-he used to tell me that it was all right to cry…that it made me human to do so. I remember that…I had stared at him like he had grown into a horrid beast from a Greek legend. It must have been the teachings of my mother that made me think crying-showing any emotion-was weak. 

I hear another sound. Footsteps so faint, it is as thought they were gliding…Oh, no. The prison guards are coming. 

No, no! Not them, please! Anyone but them! I'll take on a hungry lion, all the armies of the enemy, the Angel of Death! Anyone but them!

They sweep by my cell, gliding like shadows down the dark, slime covered walls. I throw myself to the furthest corner of my cell trying to get away. I can't feel my body. The cold has increased intensely. I feel like I'm swimming in the Arctic Ocean. Why do they do this to me? It's like a spell. I see things when they walk by me. My fears…my memories…I relive the worst moments of my life. 

I grab fistfuls of my dark hair and begin to pull. Maybe if I yank hard enough, cause my self enough pain, maybe I won't see anything. No…

Smoke rising from the horizon…fire lighting up the sky…rubble littering the ground…they're dead, staring up at me with lifeless eyes…the traitor escaping…cold metal digging into my wrists…accusing eyes…pointing fingers…

_You killed them! It was you! Traitor! Your best friends died at your hands! _

I trash; I cry; I scream. The pain is searing. My blood boils in my veins. They are watching me…the guards. I know they are. I wouldn't still feel like this if the had gone. They know what they do to me. That's why they stay by my cell. They know the pain-the horrible, physical pain-they put me through. 

I just want them to go away. Why do they do this? Is it because I do not admit guilt? If it gets rid of this pain, perhaps I should do it. No, I will take the pain. I won't admit to something I didn't do! They took everything from me, but they will not take my pride. No, he proved to me, even when my family had turned away, that I was strong, that I could survive. 

They must have sensed my defiance because they left. Those monsters don't bother with me when I rebel. They float away to leave me to wallow in my misery…to reflect on the things that I see. 

I don't know what stands out more: the dead eyes or the accusing stares. I try to close my eyes to rid myself of the images I see. My eyes snap back open. Have those memories been burned onto the backs of my eye lids? They seem clearer when I shut my eyes. 

I curl into a feeble ball; my body still heaving with pain. I wish I could turn back time and correct my mistakes. If it kept them alive, I would distance myself from them. I would stay with my family and allow myself to be subjected to their bitter words and constant torment. 

I cry out as another guard comes by. Oh, this one is cruel. He stays…he hovers by my cell for so long. An eternity passes. 

"I-I'm s-so-rry," I mutter. "M-my fault…" The guard disappears. 

Was it really all my fault? Does some part of me really think that I did the horrible things they imprisoned me for? Am I really a traitor? 

God, God, please no! Please! I didn't do it! I loved them. I am human; humans don't kill those they love. 

I curl up in the corner and let the tears form a puddle under my head. I must not think that way. I must remember who I am. I am innocent.

I stare ahead out through the bars of my cell although the darkness prevents me from seeing anything beyond them. A sudden fierce determination stirs in the deepest part of my being. I feel my face contorting in rage. I will get out of here, and I will find the real traitor. There is one more casualty that must be counted in this war. I will kill him with my own hands for what he did to me, my friends…my godson. He will pay.

I will get out.

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Well, there yall go. Please tell me what you think 


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